"You won’t guess who I just saw at a pharmacy, Donnie baby."
Elias shoved the glass doors of the office wide open and strolled right in, practically vibrating with excitement.
Donovan sat behind his desk without blinking. He slowly raised his head, his silver-framed glasses catching the cold office light, and shot Elias a death glare sharp enough to slice steel.
Elias halted his steps, clearing his throat. "Oops, that came out the wrong way."
Donovan lowered his gaze and went right back to signing his papers.
"That is besides the point," Elias pushed on, refusing to let the silence win. He marched up to the desk and planted his hands on the wood. "I saw your Cinderella! She was in a Rezvani custom! At a pharmacy!"
Donovan did not even pause his pen.
He had long given up on the chase. For days, he dumped vast amounts of resources into tracking down the phantom with the red hair. He mobilized his best men. He bought camera feeds.
He bribed informants. Every single lead turned into a dead end.
She vanished like smoke. It was a waste of company time and a waste of his patience. He was Donovan Fallon. He had a global empire to run. He refused to let a chaotic thief occupy any more of his mental space.
He rolled his eyes and flipped to the next page of his contract.
"I am serious, Don!" Elias insisted, leaning closer. "I chased her down. I mean, she swerved through traffic like a maniac and blocked me behind a city bus, but I saw her. I actually saw her face."
Snap.
The expensive fountain pen in Donovan’s hand broke right in half. Dark blue ink spilled across the crisp white paper, ruining a multi-million dollar contract.
Donovan stared at the broken pen. A sudden, irrational spike of raw anger hit him straight in the chest.
Why did Elias get to see her face?
She robbed his auction. She stole his weapons. She was his problem.
I should be the one to look her in the eyes and demand answers.
Donovan tossed the broken pen into the trash can. He pulled a pristine handkerchief from his pocket and slowly wiped the ink from his fingers. His jaw was clenched tight.
Elias watched him, crossing his arms and letting out an exaggerated sigh.
"You are ignoring me again," Elias suddenly pouted, sticking his bottom lip out.
Donovan finally looked up. His gray eyes were cold, dark, and filled with a storm that warned Elias to stop talking right this second.
"Go home, Eli."
Miles away, the world was preparing to end, and Sunny was making lunch.
The sleek modern kitchen smelled like garlic, soy sauce, and sizzling beef. She tossed a handful of chopped green onions into the hot pan, the loud sizzle echoing in the quiet room.
She had decades worth of food, a custom armored truck in the garage, and an arsenal of stolen weapons. She won the survival game before the timer even hit zero.
But her nerves were absolutely fried.
The vast flat-screen television on the living room wall played the local morning news. Two anchors sat at a sleek desk, holding ceramic coffee mugs and flashing bright, plastic smiles.
"Expect some strange weather downtown today, folks!" the weatherman laughed, pointing at a digital map. "We are tracking a very sudden, unexplainable meteor shower expected right over the financial district this afternoon. Grab your umbrellas!"
Sunny stopped stirring her beef. She gripped the edge of the marble island, her knuckles turning white.
She looked past the television, staring straight out the reinforced glass window of her living room. The sky did not look like it was preparing for a meteor shower. It looked infected. A sick, bruised purple color bled across the clouds, swirling like toxic oil in a puddle.
Are you people blind? The sky looks like a rotting plum!
Nobody was panicking. The news anchors were joking. The stock market was up. Cars drove down the highway in neat, orderly lines. It drove Sunny crazy. If this was the real world, she trusted the people of Koria to be panicking like the world was about to end. They would be emptying grocery stores, stealing toilet paper, and barricading their doors.
But this was a novel. The plot demanded a blind, ignorant public so the tragedy would hit harder.
She turned the stove off. She lost her appetite.
Sunny pulled her phone from her pocket and opened her notes app. She stared at the original timeline of The Last Saviour. She had memorized every single Chapter, every single plot point, and every single tragedy.
Ground zero for the first Gate was Fallon Industries.
The rift would tear open right above the skyscraper. The first wave of monsters would drop straight onto the bustling streets below. And Donovan Fallon, the golden boy of Koria, would be right there.
She stared at her screen, biting her bottom lip hard enough to taste copper.
If she stays in the bunker, she lives.
It was a simple fact. The concrete walls were too thick for early-stage monsters to scratch. Her air was filtered. Her water was purified. She could sit on her pristine white couch, eat her spicy beef, and watch the apocalypse unfold on her television screens. She could survive the end of the world in absolute luxury.
If she goes out there, she risks throwing away her second chance at life. She risks her safety, and her future.
But Donnie was her future.
In the original novel, Donovan did not run. When the beasts attacked, his elite security detail fled in terror. But Donovan stayed. He pushed his employees toward the emergency exits and fought a beast barehanded.
He took a brutal claw to the chest just to buy Elias time to escape. That sacrifice triggered his Awakening, but it also left him with a lingering curse that haunted him for the rest of the book.
She isn’t going to let that happen.
He is my fictional husband. The least I can do is save his stupid, handsome life.
Sunny shoved her phone into her waist bag. She did not hesitate for another second. The panic faded, replaced by a surge of pure, unhinged adrenaline.
She reached the kitchen counter, her violet eyes locking onto the metal ring sitting on the cold marble.
She grabs the keys to the Tank off the marble counter.
"I’m coming, hubby."